


Skirts and T-Shirts

by Anonymous



Category: League of Legends RPF
Genre: Boys In Love, Boys in Skirts, Cute, Dorks in Love, Fluff, M/M, Slow Dancing, caps is a Cute Boy, wunder is a Nice Boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-12-06 20:41:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18225167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: When Martin walks into Rasmus's room at the end of a long day of scrims and soloQ with the team idiots, he's fully expecting Rasmus to be blushy and cute, because Rasmus is always blushy and cute.The surprisingly sweet skirt on his hips makes him even more so.





	Skirts and T-Shirts

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I originally posted this on Dreamwidth, but I thought I would post it here for more exposure and to share it with you all. I'm still keeping myself anonymous, though 😉

_It’s way too late for this shit,_ thinks Martin to himself as Luka and Marcin launch into another round of teasing flirting innuendos. Scrims are over and he’s just trying to solo queue a bit before he heads to his boyfriend’s room for the night. Unfortunately for him, that devilish duo is queue-sniping, and, after an awful draft phase where he ends up with them playing Ashe and Sejuani in his bot-lane, he dodges.

Martin gives it one more try, but after three minutes of waiting and listening to his jungler and ADC banter, he can’t take it anymore. If he hears pineapple mentioned one more time, he’s going to slap Jankos.

 

So he wisely shuts down his computer and leaves the gaming room a bit early; after all, Rasmus isn’t likely to mind if Martin shows up for more cuddling than normal. After changing into a more comfortable sleep shirt and the softest sweatpants he owns, Martin knocks on Rasmus’s door.

He knows that his mid-laner tends to sit in precariously balanced positions, often contorting himself around the crooks of a gaming chair, so Martin’s not surprised when the response to his knocking is the awkward clattering sound of bony limbs hitting the floor. The door is unlocked, and Martin walks in to help his boyfriend out.

 

The first thing he notices is how much Rasmus is struggling to get up. Somehow the poor boy managed to tangle his feet in the arms of his old gaming chair, and his legs are caught in the seat of the chair while his upper body lays on the ground. Next, Martin notices Rasmus’s cute, blushy face.

“ _Hej skat,_ ” says Martin, casually greeting his sweetheart while also turning to close the door. As he locks it, what he had seen finally processes in his brain. Martin turns around.

He feels a light tint of pink run across his cheeks and a warm rush of happiness at how pretty Rasmus looks. The mid-laner is sprawled out on the floor with a bright red face, pure white t-shirt contrasting his lovely skin and gracefully clumsy limbs, and a beautiful orange skater skirt on his hips. Martin doesn’t think he’s ever seen Rasmus look so wonderfully perfect. That’s really saying something considering he’s basically idolised his fellow talented teen for what feels like years now.

 

But his adorations are cut short by Rasmus repeating apologies in Danish for some unknown reason. “Sorry, sorry, sorry! I’ll change out of it, I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d be here so soon - no, fuck, that’s not what I want to say. Sorry. I’ll change out of it, I’m sorry.” Martin is so confused.

“Are you alright, love?” He sits down next to Rasmus, who is still struggling to free himself from the chair, and reaches out a hand to pet Rasmus, who then scrunches up his face but smiles shyly and leans into the touch.

“Yeah - no - just… help me out of the chair?” When Rasmus asks for help, he makes grabby hands at Martin and his lips quirk up in that awkward expression he wears so often, so Martin can’t help but smile back at him.

“ _Selvfølgelig ja._ ” Rasmus leans up and Martin slips one strong arm under Rasmus’s knees and another along his back and lifts the boy up bridal style as Rasmus instinctively grabs onto Martin’s shoulders. From his elevated position, it’s much easier for Rasmus to pull his feet out from under the gaming chair’s arms, and he’s freed within seconds of being lifted up, though Martin keeps holding him. “ _Lidt kærlighed,_ ” says Martin, pecking Rasmus’s cheek and enjoying the blush that spreads across his darling’s face.

 

“Martin,” whines Rasmus, “put me down!”

Martin laughs and kisses Rasmus more. “Why though?” Rasmus rolls his eyes and smiles at the affections, even wrapping an arm around Martin’s neck to kiss him back, but still seems anxious.

Rasmus tugs at his skirt. “This,” he says, “I have to take it off.”

“But it’s so pretty on you,” protests Martin. “You look so good in that!” He kisses Rasmus on the nose to emphasize his point, and, though the mid-laner doesn’t look anxious anymore, he still looks unsure.

“Y-you’re sure you don’t mind? I’ll take it off if you want me to...”

“ _Yes_ , I’m sure, love, you’re so cute.”

“All right.” Rasmus smiles contentedly, if uncertainly, and kisses his top-laner’s lips before Martin whirls them around for a bit while Rasmus shrieks delightedly and clutches his arms around Martin’s neck. Spinning around makes both of them laugh with the joy of being together. Martin gives him a quick kiss on the cheek again. Then he walks over to the bed and gently lowers Rasmus onto it before his arms get too tired. He takes a seat next to his mid-laner on the bed, but there’s something else he can’t help but notice.

 

When Rasmus lays on the bed, his skirt drapes itself beautifully over his legs, and Martin is stunned at how Rasmus just seems to be more and more drop-dead gorgeous every day, so he says it.

Rasmus just blushes even more, if that’s possible. “You really think so?” he asks, chewing at his lip and playing with Martin’s hands interlocked with his. Martin hums his agreement, then takes Rasmus’s hands and pins them to the pillows behind his head, leaning forward so he can kiss Rasmus better. They trade affectionate pecks and full-on kisses for a while before Martin shifts pressure onto his elbows and dips even closer to Rasmus. After a bit more of silently enjoying each others’ company, Martin slides a hand up Rasmus's shirt, kisses him a little harder, reaches down to flirt with the hem of Rasmus’s skirt, inching his hands up Rasmus’s skirt and watching him squirm and giggle, pinching and squeezing Rasmus’s ass to make him gasp and softly moan, but never going far enough to get either of them hard, just to tease.

“ _Så smuk,_ ” says Martin, “ _så skøn,_ ” and Rasmus giggles, “ _så betagende,_ ” and with every compliment Martin pours out onto Rasmus he presses a little kiss to every inch of skin on Rasmus’s face, neck, cheek.

“Martin, stop it,” Rasmus whines, drawing out the vowels in a playful tone. But he grins and pulls Martin closer, and they settle into a comfortable rhythm of cuddling, kissing, and talking.

 

“Yeah, sorry about the skirt again...” Rasmus tries over and over to apologise for his choice of clothing but Martin quickly shuts him down.

“Nothing to be sorry for, love.” He accentuates his endearment with a softer kiss to Rasmus’s forehead and watches as a delicate shade of pink floods his beloved’s face like a rising dawn, much to his pleasure. Martin rolls onto his side next to Rasmus, still holding the mid-laner close to his chest. Neither of them can stop smiling, neither can keep their hands to themselves, neither could ever think of a better place to be than in the other’s arms.

Then, Martin gets the perfect idea.

 

“ _Elskede,_ do you know how to dance?”

Rasmus’s expression of confusion is simply adorable. “What, like slow dancing?”

“Mmhmm.” He nuzzles Rasmus and kisses him on the cheek.

“ _Nej._ ”

“Want to try? I can teach you.”

 

Rasmus laughs at how eager Martin is to teach him dancing, but it’s not a malicious laughter - it’s never malicious between these two. “You helpless romantic,” he teases, “All right, let’s dance.” Martin’s face lights up and so does his phone screen as he quickly finds a playlist to dance to, and the pure happiness radiating from his taller counterpart warms Rasmus’s heart.

“Here we go,” hums Martin, hitting play and nimbly moving over Rasmus to stand on the floor. He kneels so he’s more at Rasmus’s eye level and Rasmus slings his legs over the edge of the bed, sitting up to meet Martin halfway. He smiles bashfully and bounces around a bit with glee. “Someone’s excited,” comments Martin with a grin.

Rasmus’s smile is as bright as the sun when he responds, “I like learning new things,” still excitedly rocking himself from side to side.

Martin practically melts at the cute energeticness. “Ok, my beautiful bouncy boyfriend,” he says, scooping up both of Rasmus’s hands in his, “may I have this dance?” Rasmus responds with another gorgeous grin.

“ _J_ _a, selvfølgelig, min kærlighed._ ”

 

As the much taller of the two, Martin quickly takes the lead and pulls Rasmus to his feet, resting a hand on the small of Rasmus’s back as his smaller sweetheart puts a hand on his shoulder, and they hold each others’ opposite hand to the side. He guides Rasmus through a simple swooshing step that takes two strides to the right, then two to the left, then repeat. It’s easy enough that neither of them has any problem with keeping to the song’s tempo, although Rasmus trips a few times, but Martin is always right there to catch him, so if anything a few mishaps just add to the fun.

 

“Want to try a spin?” asks Martin, eager to see the sight he’s been envisioning. Ever since he had walked in the room and seen that pretty skirt on Rasmus, Martin knew he wanted to see Rasmus twirling around with that wonderful smile and his skirt flaring and the soft aura of happiness around him and all because of Martin.

“Sure!”

“Okay, so step like this… and turn your body like that…” He coaxes Rasmus through slowly spinning a wide circle, gently pressing on his hips to show him how to position his body and his arms, and Rasmus pulls it off. His movements are stilted and wobbly like a baby gazelle, but somehow it just adds to his awkward charm.

 

Martin can’t stop staring.

 

Rasmus’s skirt is just so perfect, his shirt and smile too, and the way he looks up through his lashes at Martin has him slack-jawed and unable to so much as glance away. With his big bright eyes, wide grin, fluttering skirt that looks like orange petals in a summer breeze, and the way he’s daintily pressing his body close to Martin’s, Rasmus is indescribably gorgeous. Martin can’t help but guide him through another spin, just to admire his beauty for a few seconds more.

They both giggle when Rasmus returns to kiss Martin and step with him, and stay dancing for one song, two songs, three songs more, still dancing to slow Shawn Mendes songs as Rasmus presses his head against Martin’s chest and Martin holds Rasmus even closer. Gently, their pace slows to a peaceful sway, and Martin presses kiss after kiss to the top of Rasmus’s head.

 

“ _J_ _eg elsker dig,_ ” says Rasmus, leaning up to nibble at Martin’s lips. He nudges Martin back until the top-laner is up against the edge of the bed and has nowhere to go but to sit with a  _whoompf_ and look up at his mid-laner, who kisses him deeply from this new angle.

When he gets a spare breath, Martin earnestly replies, “ _Jeg elsker også dig,_ ” and pulls Rasmus in all his wondrous gorgeousness onto the bed.


End file.
